Heart Shaped Box
by TarynWanderer
Summary: A re-imagining of Diamond in the Rough, far more realistic. Turkish meets Tommy while mourning his wife. Was going to be a longer series, a one-shot for now.


Turkish could feel the sleepiness inside his eyes, behind them, under them. It tugged down his eyelids, the corners of his lips. He could feel it weighing down on the back of his neck and in his limbs. It conquered him no matter where he was. If Turkish sat down for a minute his eyes would sink shut. He would sit on the side of the ring and let dullness slip over his sight. He hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks, not since it happened. He had bathed, but nobody could really tell.

Turkish drank a lot, but he couldn't even think about pulling. Birds still tried, though. Whatever pub or club he had been dragged to were full of the same kind of women- too old to be dressed the way they were, with glassy desperate eyes and painted lips, flabby arms bursting out of their tops, bellies spilling over their skirts. They all saw Turkish and they all tried. They spilled their unsteady gaze all over him. They spilled their alcohol tinted breath all down his neck, their alcoholic drinks all down his trousers. They noticed his ring too late, laughingly withdrawing their efforts. Joking about it. Teasing him.

Gorgeous George would laugh loudly and clap him on the back. "Turkish mate, we have got to get you a bird!" Gorgeous was good at the little interactions that Turkish felt so completely incompetent at. He waddled his big frame over to a group of women and said things like "I'll buy you and your mates drinks, but one of you's better be up for shagging my friend Turkish!" and the women would laugh just as loud as he did. Turkish would sit there, trying not to look anyone too closely in the face, nervously twisting his ring round his finger.

He kept his shutters closed and most of the lights off. The television hadn't been off in hours, an endless parade of adverts for homemakers and the unemployed, crap songs, and heartless interviews. Richard and Judy when he bleared awake in the morning, Columbo and Knot's Landing. Then he would drink his dinner during Eurotrash, Prison Cell Block H. The days would pass in a wash of glowing blue, and he would lay there, eyes half closed, unseeing.

Turkish didn't sleep now, not since it happened. He lulled himself into a daze but he never truly slept, and he never dreamt. He was constantly on the edge of letting go, wanting so hard for oblivion to just take him. It never happened.

His entry phone buzzed. Turkish's eyes opened but he didn't move from where he lay. He heard a few bangs and the main door slam.

Then Gorgeous George was banging on his flat door. "Open up, Turkish!" The big man bellowed.

Turkish rubbed his face and struggled to lift his languid body off the couch.

"What the hell," he bleared through the gap allowed by the door's chain.

"Look at you, mate!" Gorgeous George guffawed, the dim yellow corridor light colouring his face. "All skin and bones! I told you he needed a decent meal, Tommy," he clapped a large meaty hand on the back of the boy standing near him, to the side. Tommy was a skinny, dark-haired boy, maybe nineteen years old, with glassy black eyes and a manic grin. Tesco bags swung from his arms and he stared up at Turkish expectantly. "Tommy here's going to make you dinner," Gorgeous said, smiling broadly. "He says he's got just the thing for a man in your situation." Then he winked.

Turkish blinked as Tommy brushed past him, as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Who the fuck is Tommy?"

"Hello," Tommy said, not even looking up from where he was unloading food onto the kitchen counter.

"Where did he come from?" Turkish demanded.

"From a very trustworthy place," Gorgeous winked again. "You needn't worry."

"Well what the fuck is he doing here?!"

"He's going to make you a meal," Gorgeous explained slowly, like Turkish was an idiot. "And then he's going to spend the night with you."

"Doing what?"

"Oh whatever you like. Give you some company. You could have him tidy up this tip. Couldn't hurt," Gorgeous cast a scornful gaze around the flat. "I've paid him for every eventuality so the sky's the limit."

Before Turkish could indignantly reply, Gorgeous gave him another lewd smile and closed the door between them.

"I've brought stuff for a stir-fry," Tommy said, his voice rich and sure, faint traces of a Scouser accent still lingering around the end of his sentence. "And things to make a cake from scratch for pud. Wine and beer," Suddenly he turned around, glassy black eyes wide. He had smudged eyeliner and shadow making him look faded and partied out. "You ehn't a vegetarian, right? Because I didn't bank on that."

ÒAm I, fuck," Turkish muttered before drawing himself up to his full height and taking a few steps. "Listen, I don't know who you are or what you're selling but I don't need it or you. You can just leave thank you very fucking much."

Tommy looked up at him, unfazed, munching on some baby carrots. His nails were painted black. "Well, Jesus," he said. "That's quite a welcome. Are you like this with all your guests?" he shrugged. "Well it's no skin off my back. I could still go out," his already big eyes widened even more. "Hey do you want to go clubbing with me? Gorgeous gave me tons of money."

"No I do not want to go fucking clubbing with you. I don't even know you," Turkish snarled. "Get out."

Tommy shrugged again, sighing a little. "Well all right. Seems a waste, though, with all this food," He cast a lingering gaze at the counter. "Gorgeous paid for it all, too. That's a little ungrateful," his voice softened and lilted, his lips curled out appealingly and he blinked slowly. "He paid for me. And I ehn't exactly cheap."

Turkish was too tired for this bullshit. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. "Look, I didn't ask George for this little gift. And I'm really not interested."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm fucking sure!"

Tommy fidgeted a little, looking slightly troubled. "Gorgeous said that since you were having such a hard time getting back to your usual self, you might want to try something new."

His fists clenched, Turkish could feel his ring, cold against the skin on the inside of his hand. "I don't like boys, and I don't sleep with whores! Get out!" He tried to make it look like he would thump Tommy if he didn't do as he was told, but his heart wasn't in it.

Tommy stared at him for a second, then his black-lined eyes flickered away, his jaw clenched and his lips curling into what could have been a sneer. "Fine. Fuck you too, mate. I'm in too good a mood to fight with you," he stepped towards the door, but then turned back. "Look, could I at least have something to eat? I'll clean up after and leave you alone."

Turkish threw his hands in the air, defeated.

"Oh, what are you like," Tommy muttered, pulling a can of lager from one of the plastic bags. "Here, go watch telly and have a drink. I'll tell you when it's ready. You don't have to talk to me."

Turkish stared at the strange boy in front of him, before taking the lager with a glare and stomping back to his couch. He sank into the groove, cracking open his can and scowling. When the hell had his life gotten this far out of control? It was bad enough Gorgeous George parading him around at pubs, or buying him lap dances. Or even hiring someone to come up to his home to sleep with him. But a boy?

The smell of vegetables and chicken cooking slowly in black bean sauce prompted him to glance over his shoulder at where Tommy stood cooking the meal. The boy was inappropriately happy, eyes almost shut, manic smile gracing his lips, swaying back and forth on his feet ever so slightly. He wore a small black band t-shirt that clung to his back and around his shoulders. His jeans were low, baggy, and ill-fitting, but they didn't hide the shapely swell at the top of Tommy's legs.

Turkish's mouth watered, and his stomach tinged painfully. He took a long pull of his lager and tried to stop thinking. It had only been a month for fuck's sake, what did they want from him? Only a month ago he was happy, and now Gorgeous was paying street boys to come and cook for him.

A thought entered his head that made slightly more sense. Turkish couldn't look at other women any more. He had, in the past, when Melanie was still alive, but he physically couldn't do it anymore. To someone like Gorgeous George, that could only mean one thing.

And this was his best friend. What a mess his life had become.

"Dinner's ready," Tommy's softened voice woke him from his trance, and he saw that the table had been set and the rest of the food had been put away.

Tommy had made a huge meal, with his chicken stir fry, a side salad and, as promised, there was a cake cooling on a wire rack by the sink.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the murmur of the ignored television in the background. Turkish stared at his plate, at his beer, and up at Tommy. The boy ate quickly and steadily, his eyes glassy and distant, pushing each bite around his mouth like he was never going to eat a meal again. He cleared his plate and took seconds, and Turkish tried not to think about the meals Melanie made him.

"Where did you learn to cook?" he asked, quietly, to distract himself.

"Different places," was the reply, between Tommy stuffing his mouth. "Here and there. You pick things up. Are you going to- here, can I..." Tommy pulled his chair down the table so he was sitting next to Turkish, his arm making contact across Turkish's body as he reached past him. Tommy gave him a cheeky smile and didn't withdraw the contact. "Do you like it?"

Turkish could only nod. He didn't have the wherewithal to do anything else.

"It's all dairy-free, too," Tommy added. "I'm not vegetarian, not yet anyway, but it's a start. I can't have milk." Turkish half expected Tommy to just keep talking, but he didn't, he only loaded his plate with more food and poured another glass of wine. He was being stubborn, he was waiting. He had done this before.

"How do you know Gorgeous George?" Turkish asked.

"You know how he's a bouncer part-time? I know a bloke who works with him the same nights." Tommy shovelled vegetables into his mouth. "He looks out for me sometimes. Gorgeous I mean. This other bloke is...well, we used to be mates. Sort of," darkness passed over Tommy's face very briefly. Then he smiled again, looked up at Turkish quickly, and went on eating. Turkish realized Tommy was completely out of his skull.

To that end, as he would probably never see this kid again, he took a deep breath and just let the dam open for once.

"I was married for two years," he said. "We were together since school. Her name was Melanie and she died last month," he paused, like the words surprised them. He hadn't said them out loud. The police had told her parents, her friends had made all the arrangements. He just drifted around in this cloud of denial and confusion. Turkish felt the ring hot on his finger; it tapped against his third can of lager. His hand shook ever so slightly.

Tommy didn't say anything. He looked up at Turkish from the corner of his eyes, but the older man wasn't looking at him. Turkish stared at the food on the table, looking through it. "It was, um… it was a regular who used to come and bet on my fights. He had a problem. She was… she had gone out to the shops and he… it was an accident. He didn't mean to… I mean, he only meant to scare her, and the shop keeper, so he could get the money. He came to me, and he settled his debts. Before I even knew."

Tommy looked up at him through long eye lashes, and didn't say a word. "So that's the story with me," Turkish finished lamely, resting his head in one hand.

Tommy nodded solemnly, as if adding up figures in his head. He let his bare arm linger next to Turkish's for a moment, waiting to see if there was more. There wasn't. "Why don't you go sit on the couch?" he said softly. "I'll clean this up. And then I'll bring you some cake."

Turkish dumbly did as he was told, his belly full for the first time in weeks, his eyes sore and weary. He hadn't spoken about it before. He wanted to hide it, to forget it, and realizing that he wanted to forget made him feel like a douchebag.

It was that Tommy was a stranger, he was anonymous. Turkish felt as if he had been tricked.

"Here now," Tommy said, appearing with a plate of flat cake, covered in chocolate. "I had to do this chocolate marshmallow melting thing. I don't know how it's turned out. I sort of made up part of it; I can't read very well," Tommy tucked his legs up under him on the couch next to Turkish. "Open up!"

Turkish replied with a hard glare but Tommy only smiled cheekily. "Poor Turkish, you're not used to this, are you?" he broke off a piece of cake and held it up to Turkish's mouth, pushing it through his lips. Turkish gave up and did as he was told. "Sometimes it's good," Tommy said "to let someone else take charge," he slowed down abruptly at the end of the sentence, like he had had a change of heart. "You have good friends. Gorgeous really cares about you."

Turkish nodded. "Yeah. 'Spose so," Tommy fed him more cake and snuggled his smaller body in close. "This is good."

"It is, isn't it," Tommy grinned. "I guess you haven't had someone bake for you in a while, hey?" Then, slowly, with a glimmer in his eyes, he stuck a chocolate covered finger in his mouth and licked it clean.

Turkish tried to look away.

"You're really handsome, too," Tommy said. "I mean usually I don't say that, or I don't mean it, but you really are handsome. Really really handsome," Tommy slid the now empty plate onto the coffee table. "Can I kiss you?" he asked. "I won't kiss you on the mouth or anything if you don't want," before Turkish could answer, Tommy had pulled himself up to straddle Turkish's hips, and was rubbing his face against Turkish's neck, planting small kisses up and down…

Turkish wanted to push him off- god bless him, Melanie, he really did.

It just felt too damn good, this contact of skin and lips, the little body on his lap, clutching him. Everything rushed back, the feel of someone else's smile on his neck, their breath in his ear. It was the affection that had been snatched away from him so suddenly and thoughtlessly. It crushed him and he wrapped his arms around Tommy, trying to envelop him, to not let another one be stolen away.

"Oh," he heard Tommy breathe. "It's all right. You can let it go. I won't think any less of you."

That did it, and for the first time, fast, hot, uncontrollable tears came. Turkish was shaken by how deeply they surged. He hadn't been this broken, this vulnerable, since he was a very small child. Turkish buried his head in Tommy's shoulder and cried and cried and cried.

Tommy didn't say anything. No 'cheer up mate' because Turkish clearly wasn't going to cheer up. No 'it'll be all right' because it clearly wasn't going to be all right. Turkish was completely bereft and at the mercy of this boy.

When he was done, after what felt like a lifetime, Tommy was still there, cradling Turkish's head to his chest, pressing gentle kisses on the side of his face. Tommy was there, not hiding inside his own grief, not watching helplessly from the other side of a pub table. Tommy was there.

"Mmm," Tommy murmured, rubbing his face against Turkish's, sighing like the contact was the best thing in the world. "I know," he said. "I know." Hands ran down Turkish's arms, around the back of his neck. Soft kisses on his eyelids. "You should take a shower," Tommy said. "You'll feel better after you've taken a shower," his breathing was heavy now, coming in short, deep dregs. He ran his hands down Turkish's arms, cupping Turkish's hands in his own, guiding them up. Turkish could feel a familiar warm hardness against his stomach. "Come on. Come and take a shower with me."

Shattered, Turkish numbly followed Tommy to the bathroom. He stood passively, leaning against the doorway as Tommy ran the shower. Tommy smiled up at Turkish and pulled off the older man's belt, un-tucking his shirt, always gently kissing and touching skin as it was revealed.

Turkish leaned against the wall of the shower, feeling the gaps between the cold tiles against his skin. He wasn't entirely sure when the situation got this far out of hand, but for the first time in a very long time, something felt right, and what he was supposed to do was clear. He sighed as Tommy moved down his body, hands sliding over soap-slicked skin, black-varnished nails digging in softly. Tommy knelt before Turkish, who against his better judgement, was starting to get hard. It had been too long without touch, without love.

Tommy smiled up at him from where he knelt in front of Turkish's erection, and rubbed up and down between Turkish's wet thighs. "Poor Turkish,"he said again. Then he ran his tongue up the length of Turkish's penis.

Turkish hissed and fell against the corner of the shower, arms splaying in the stream. His legs shook. He was nervous.

Tommy grinned, black eyeliner smudged by the water, and slyly licked and nibbled at the head. He blinked his eyes slowly and licked his lips, before going back to lap at it more. He kissed and sucked very gently at very small parts until Turkish couldn't take it anymore. It had been too long, and was never supposed to happen again.

"Tommy," he tried to start. "Ng."

Tommy grabbed his balls and the base of his penis suddenly. He looked up at Turkish and licked his lips hungrily. "It's okay to feel good," he said. Then he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

Turkish was at a loss, leaning against the corner of the shower, arms splayed, the water beating against his chest. Tommy sucked on his entire cock right up to the base. He wrapped one arm around Turkish's waist, and tickled between his thighs with the other.

He settled into a comfortable bobbing rhythm, taking the whole thing all the way down his throat, sucking hard back up and swirling his tongue around the head.

"Oh my fuck," Turkish breathed. "That's so…Tommy…I…" the part of his brain that had wanted to push Tommy away was now silent and embarrassed. Turkish flushed and blustered in the shower.

He felt Tommy's laughter around his cock and looked down at the dark, glassy eyes, eyeliner running in the water. Tommy continued to work at the hardness in his mouth and ran his hands around the older man's legs and buttocks.

Just when Turkish thought he was finished, Tommy squeezed the base and drew back. "Oh, what are you like," the boy said, his voice thick and throaty. "You must be older than I thought, going off like that."

Turkish couldn't even muster a snarl or a hard glare. He flailed against the wall and panted. "Tommy, for fuck's sake…"

"All right," Tommy huffed. "Just let me have my fun. I can do a whole lot. Just up one side," he sucked long and hard up and down the length. He kissed and stroked gently. He bobbed quickly up and down the head, smearing the precum around his wet face. "I could put the whole thing in the side of my mouth and gnaw at it like a candy cane," and then he did exactly that.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Turkish cried. Hard, sticky warmth enveloped his cock, punctuated by short sharp scrapes. It woke him up and reminded him that he was alive. Too soon he was coming, and Tommy caught it all in his mouth, gently worrying the head between his teeth until he was certain Turkish was completely done.

Turkish was spent, and sprawled in the corner under the stream, knees shaking, eyes rolling, chest pumping. He must've missed Tommy spitting out his come on the bathtub floor, and reaching out to the sink, as the next thing he knew, Tommy was standing upright in front of him, swirling mouth wash, a slight grimace on his face.

Turkish wrapped his arms around the boy again, burying his face in the wet shoulder, running his hands through dark curls. He felt Tommy giggle softly and return the hug. Turkish ran his hands across slick skin, a lean stomach, and hesitated when he reached Tommy's own erection.

"Aw," Tommy said. "You're nice. I like you," he pushed back. "It's okay. I know you don't like boys. I'll be fine," he replaced the cap on the mouthwash and set it on the side of the tub. "Do you feel better now?" he hugged Turkish again and, mouth still sharp and hot from the mouthwash, kissed Turkish on each nipple. Turkish sighed. "You should go to bed," Tommy's voice was authoritative.

Turkish was half asleep, his mind blank for the first time in a long time, as Tommy dried him off and tucked him into bed. He lay there fitfully, tossing and turning, forever reaching for an absent partner, when Tommy came back, face clean, fully dressed.

"I tidied everything up," the boy said. "Do you want me to go?"

Turkish reached for his hand. "No," he tried to say, but it came out more as a soft moan.

"Okay," Tommy said hesitantly, after a sigh. "I'll stay here 'til you drift off," he climbed into bed and pulled one of Turkish's arms over his body like a blanket, spooning his back against Turkish's chest. Then, like he was reassuring a child- "it's okay to sleep here."

Seconds later, cradling the boy to him, Turkish was asleep.

Turkish dreamt about Melanie, and didn't move at all in his sleep. He awoke when his eyes decided to open to a faintly lightening sky through the window, and somebody sitting on the edge of the bed. His arms lay crossed over each other, hugging nothing, a fading feeling of contentment lingering on his skin.

Turkish murmured and reached out for her, until he realized it was someone else sitting there.

The boy turned, sniffling. "Did I wake you?" he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Turkish looked at the boy from where he lay for a moment, before he remembered last night, and everything that came before it. The feeling of contentment slithered away, and the dullness in his head came back. "No," he said. "You didn't wake me."

Tommy nodded, eyes lucid and wet. "I have to leave," he said. "I fell asleep for a bit, but I didn't mean to. I have to get going."

Turkish shrugged ineffectually. "Okay," he said. But Tommy didn't move. He stared at Turkish with a furrowed brow, a look of worry that wasn't there the night before. A look of awful, anxious sobriety.

The boy moved closer and pushed himself against Turkish for another hug. Instinctively, too sleepy to think about it, Turkish returned the hug and pressed his face into Tommy's dark curls.

"Thanks for having me," Tommy said.

"No bother," Turkish replied. Before he was finished hugging Tommy had wriggled out of his grasp and was shrugging on his jacket. Before he could leave the room Turkish rolled over and called out, to his own surprised - "can I see you again?"

Tommy paused, and shrugged. "I don't care. It's your money," he said. "Just ask George." Then he left.

Turkish lay alone, and the bed felt cold and empty now. His eyes felt wide and alert. He didn't fall back asleep.

"Thanks for having me," Tommy said.

"No bother," Turkish replied. Before he was finished hugging Tommy had wriggled out of his grasp and was shrugging on his jacket. Before he could leave the room Turkish rolled over and called out, to his own surprised - "can I see you again?"

Tommy paused, and shrugged. "I don't care. It's your money," he said. "Just ask George." Then he left.

Turkish lay alone, and the bed felt cold and empty now. His eyes felt wide and alert. He didn't fall back asleep.


End file.
